


We Could Be

by 10_pasesfire



Category: Newsies (1992)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Background Relationships, Eating Disorders, It's Okay, M/M, Probably some OC's - Freeform, and fluffy, background javid and blush, i don't know yet, little angsty, no one dies, other problems, sprace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-10-31 20:58:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10907337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/10_pasesfire/pseuds/10_pasesfire
Summary: Racetrack doesn't believe in the soul mate system. He's not going to let some mark on his arm be the boss of his love life. But when he meets his soul mate, will they change his mind?





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I just want to say that I don't think making fun of eating disorders is okay. I want to give a warning if talking about it triggers you or anything and if you have one, I am not making fun of you. Love you guys♡♡

Racetrack scratched at his arm absentmindedly. It had been itching more and more lately, burning like a rash. It sat there as a constant reminder of the the burden he carried. The words of whoever it was he was supposed to spend the rest of his life with. 

 

He glared at the words. “They sound like an asshole.” David, Jack, Blink and Mush looked over at him from whatever conversation they were having.

 

“Mr. Finchum?” David questioned. Most likely who they had been talking about.

 

“Let's be honest Dave, he is kind of a jerk.” Jack answered. “Remember that one time he took away my phone in class for no reason?”

 

“Jack, you answered a phone call in the middle of his lecture!”

 

“That's beside the point.”

 

“No, not him!” Race interrupted them. “Whoever this person is that's technically “perfect” for me.”

 

“This again Race?” Blink groaned. “Who cares about that?”

 

“Me! I don't wanna be with someone who calls me ‘telestubby’. They sound like a jerk.”

 

“Yeah, your point?” David asked noncommittally.

 

“I don't want to be with a jerk!”

 

“You are a jerk too, though. Also, how do you know they are talking about you? Also also, it's just a mark on your arm! It doesn't matter if you don't make it matter. Mush and Blink aren't soul mates and look at them.” Jack gestured to them as they were laying lazily next to each other.

 

“They've known eachother for years. They don't count.”

 

“I beg to differ Anthony.” Mush spoke up. “Whoever it is, I think you should give them a chance before beating yourself up about how bad they are.” Racetrack sighed. He sat in the revolving desk chair at his desk.

 

He stared out the window, dreading going to school the next day. The more it itched, he knew the closer it was to him meeting his mate. It was weighing down on him, making him paranoid about how it's going to be. He thought about what his friends said and took a deep breath.

 

He wasn't going to be a slave to the mark, he decided. Just let whatever happens, happen. Regardless, he barely got any sleep that night.

 

***  


It was almost lunch and nothing had happened. Race figured his soul mate had up and moved away or something. He walked into the boy's bathroom, free of the burden of his mark for the first time in a while. He was just washing his hands when he heard it.

 

The hard gagging of someone throwing up. He had thought he was in there alone, but obviously not. He listened in as whoever it was wretched in the stall. He quickly shut the water off and went to grab paper towels as he heard the toilet flush and the lock unclick. 

 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a boy. He dressed in an overly large button down with a striped pattern. It was open to reveal him wearing one of those Sandlot shirts that says “You're killin me Smalls”. He also wore black jeans and clunky black boots.

 

He bent over, pulling a toothbrush and toothpaste from his backpack. Racetrack stood in awe as this kid, hidden behind dirty blond bangs, started brushing his teeth in the boy's bathroom. Racetrack stared, paper towels forgotten.

 

“You got somethin to say?” Racetrack was taken aback by his voice which was thick with a Brooklyn accent. He didn't know he could see him. Being the person he was, unable to deal with serious situations, he did what he did best. Joke inappropriately. 

 

“Bulimia? What are you, a girl?” He felt a pang of guilt as he said it. He doesn't know why he says half the things he does sometimes. The boy continued to brush his teeth, seemingly unaffected by Racetrack’s attempt at an insult. He spit into the sink and rinsed his mouth.

 

He looked over at Racetrack, finally, with narrowed eyes. They were menacing, icy blue and mesmerizing. He looked him up and down before scoffing and rolling his eyes.

 

“You're one to talk, tele-stubby. Why don't you go back to prancing the green hills under the baby faced sun. I'm sure La la and Po miss you dearly.” He quickly packed up and left Racetrack standing in the bathroom with his mouth hanging open.

 

He'd just met his soul mate.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Racetrack talks to his soul mate. It's a pretty weird conversation.

Racetrack had stayed up all night. He didn't know what to think. He had called Mush, asking for advice on what to do. Not only was his soul mate some lanky, creepy dude he didn't know, but he also had an issue. A real issue. And Race didn't know how to deal with that!

 

Was he supposed to just come in and be like “Hey, you probably shouldn't gag yourself”? Mush told him to just try and talk to him, but he didn't want to. He wanted to just avoid it. Avoid him. He didn't want to get to know him. They'd already started out on the wrong side of the tracks and it could only get worse from there.

 

The boy hadn't even shown any recognition when Race spoke to him. What if he wasn't his soul mate too? Then what, it would just be awkward. Race had spent the whole day up until lunch thinking about it. Before he knew it, he was through the line with his food. 

 

He scanned the lunchroom, looking for a seat. He hated the unreliability of the lunchroom and not having a solid place to sit every time. After standing for a while, he found himself heading toward the courtyard to eat outside instead.

 

He looked around, taking in the fresh air. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the natural light, squinting as he stumbled around the grass. As his vision became normal, he noticed him. He sat under a tree, sunglasses covering his eyes and bangs hanging in his face as he strummed on a...Gibson ES-175?

 

Racetrack was taken aback by the sight. He thought quickly about what he should do before promptly setting down his tray and heading toward the boy. He was in his head the whole time. He didn't even realize he had made it to him until he heard his voice.

 

“Yo, can I help you Danny Devito?” He stared up at him, his lips had a small poutiness to them. They were honestly...perfect?

 

“Yeah, I need to talk to you, Marilyn Manson.”

 

“No, I do not take blow jobs in exchange for pot, anything else?” He said sarcastically while still strumming.

 

“That's not what I came here for. I don't go with dudes who dress like a hobo screwed a school shooter anyway, thank you.”

 

“You don't ‘go with’ dudes? What are you, a 1950’s housewife? And that's perfectly fine cause I don't screw dudes who dress like a hipster had a child with Fred from Scooby Doo.”

 

Race was starting to grow slightly irritated. Here he was trying to have an actual conversation and all he does is...what would you even call it? Joking? That's what Race would call it, but most likely not any of his friends.

 

“Would you stop torturing that guitar? It's really disturbing the peace.”

 

“Did you just come here to insult my life choices, because I can just go home and hear that with dinner included if I'm lucky.” He countered. Race didn't know how to respond. “And if you can't appreciate good music, you can go jerk off to your Katy Perry CDs and Glee soundtracks.” Racetrack scoffed.

 

“You know what, screw you.”

 

“Yeah, you want to.”

 

“Whatever, I'm out of here.” He decided he was done with this guy. He didn't need to try and impress this wanna be River Phoenix. 

 

“Thanks for nothing Hogwart.” He mumbled. 

 

Racetrack stopped in his place. “What did you call me?”

 

“...It's a reference. Chill.”

 

“To what?” He abruptly stopped strumming. 

 

“You haven't seen Labyrinth?”

 

“The what?”

 

“You know, Jim Henson’s way of satisfying his Bowie bulge fetish that he definitely had?” Racetrack’s lips quirked into a small smile, barely noticeable if you didn't know him well.

 

“No, I have never even heard of that.” The boy stood up to his full height, towering over Race. He leaned in uncomfortably close, his slightly upturned nose almost touching Racetrack's.

 

“Watch it.” He whispered before pulling his guitar onto his back and making to walk away. Racetrack stood, not really understanding what this interaction was. Then he realized, it was his chance.

 

“Do you have it?” Race asked. The boy turned back around, whipping his bangs out of his face. He made a face that practically screamed “What are you, some kind of idiot?”

 

“Yes, of course I have it.” 

 

“Well, if you want me to watch it so bad, why don't you show it to me?” The boy shoved his hands in his pockets and gave a small smirk which Race didn't expect. He expected him to stomp off, rolling his eyes at Race for this seemingly random attempt at asking him out.

 

Was that what he was doing? Was he really asking this guy out? This guy who is most likely his soul mate and he doesn't even know his name? Some dude who definitely has deeply rooted issues Race will not want to get into? He'll probably have to. He doesn't like that.

 

He took the guitar shaped necklace that hung around his neck and began to bite on it in thought, seemingly.

 

“Are you asking me out, Peter Dinklage?” Though Race found his constant alluding to the fact that he was below average height insufferable, he also thought it kind of...endearing?

 

“No, I'm asking if we can...watch your movie? At my house? Not a date, obviously.” How eloquent, Race thought to himself. The boy smirked again.

 

“Fine, but no sex on the first date. I'm a good girl.” He pulled a pen out and walked up to Race, taking his hand and scrawling a number on it before he turned to walk away again. 

 

“Wait, what's your name jerk face?” Race stopped him.

 

He took off his sunglasses slowly and stared at him blankly as if he had asked for his social security number. He got nervous for a split second. Was he going to beat him up for calling him jerk face? “Call me Spot.” He said finally.

 

“What are you, a puppy?”

 

“Very funny coming from someone who looks like a dog. What do they call you anyway, Tiny Tim?”

 

“Racetrack.” He said, plain and simple.

 

“Right. See you later Lucky the Leprechaun.”

 

“Yeah, see you Paris Hilton.” Race took a jab at Spot’s skinny nature. He got the finger in return as Spot walked away. Race immediately called Mush.

 

“What is it?” Mush answered.

 

“I think I just asked out my soul mate.”

 

Race smiled slightly, beside himself.


	3. Chapter Three

Racetrack had texted him hesitantly that night. He mainly did it so that Spot would have his number in return, but then they actually spoke. Between the ever present and extremely common insults was an actual conversation.

 

It was obvious Spot hadn't done this a lot, not really seeming to know what questions were okay to ask or not. Or, as Race thought, he was just a really inappropriate guy who didn't care. They'd stayed up late into the night, talking about things like movies and music. Spot was very passionate about both.

 

Racetrack actually found him kind of interesting which surprised him. He wondered if Spot had discovered, yet, that Race was his soulmate in return. He wondered if he even cared. What if he does know and he's just not going to bring it up? Then what? They'd just stay...buddies? Is that what they were?

 

Race decided they were strong acquaintances. 

 

It was the next day at school. He sat with his friends in the library during free period. He was going on and on, absentmindedly until Blink interrupted.

 

“Dude, you have been talking about Spot non-stop for the past 20 minutes. Can we change the subject please?”

 

“I haven't been talking about him that much.”

 

David sighed. “Race, I feel like I know him better than you at this point and I haven't even met him. I think you might have a tiny crush.”

 

“That's ridiculous, I don't even know him and I barely tolerate him.”

 

“Yeah, I'm sure that's what you were thinking when you stayed up until 2:00 last night talking to him.”

 

Race was ready to retort when something caught his eye. The tall figure walking toward the library steps with a camera around his neck. He's a photographer too? Race thought that was pretty interesting and a small smile graced his lips.

 

“Uh-oh, Racetrack smiles are never good. What is it?” Mush looked toward where he was staring. He didn't know what Spot looked like though. So Race thought he should change that.

 

“Spot!” He called. Spot turned toward the voice as he was about to start up the stairs. His eyebrows raised as if he were surprised, but the rest of his face maintained that unimpressed nature. His friends looked up at who he was talking to and their faces showed surprise as well.

 

Today he wore his signature outfit coupled with a beret that kept his hair out of his face. Racetrack was caught off guard by the hat, but he thought it suited him well.

 

Race waved him over and he started toward them taking long, prideful strides.

 

“Guys, this is Heather Duke. Heather, meet David, Jack, Blink, and Mush.” Racetrack gestured to his friends who responded with variations of “Hi”. Spot gave them a small salute.

 

“Why Heather Duke?” Mush asked.

 

“I think the better question is why do you guys associate with Dobby the Elf.” Spot countered before Race could answer. He was kind of glad he didn't have to.

 

“That's the best you could come up with?” Race scoffed.

 

“Pardon me for trying to preserve your delicate feelings. If you really want it, I'll release the kracken.”

 

“Is that what you call your penis?”

 

“Yeah, what do you call yours, peanut?”

 

Race glared. “You can leave, Christina Ricci.”

 

“Love you too Mickey Rooney!” He smirked as he backed up toward the stairs again and began to climb them.

 

“Where do you take pictures, the boy's bathroom?”

 

“No, your mom's house. Surprised you slept through that mess last night.” He called as he reached the next floor and walked off.

 

“Okay, first of all, why is he so cute?” Mush asked. 

 

“Hey!” Blink pouted, but it was quickly replaced by a smile as Mush kissed his cheek several times.

 

“Yeah and what was that?” David asked. 

 

“He isn't cute, he's annoying. And that's what we call a conversation David. That's the first time I've called him Spot since I met him.”

 

“Race, he's just like you! And he is definitely hot. You have to be blind if you don't see that.” Jack argued with an exasperated laugh.

 

“And you just introduced him to your friends! And your mom in a few days! You have to like him, at least a little. Whether you realize it or not.” David finished. Racetrack rolled his eyes at them, but he knew they were kind of right.

 

He knew there was some unspoken reason as to why he decided to call him over when he could have ignored him. There's a reason he texted him all night instead of sleeping which he loved and why he felt guilty every time he teased him about his thinness. He was worried. He cared.

 

“I'm falling for him?” He questioned himself, a seemingly random statement since his friends couldn't hear his thoughts. 

 

“Glad you agree.” Blink laughed. A light blush caressed Racetrack's face.

 

“Whatever.” Is all he said.

 

***

 

Racetrack wouldn't admit that he got kind of excited whenever he saw Spot in the hall over the next few days. He started to sit by him at lunch, first on the complete other side of the tree, but he got closer everyday until they were so close their arms touched.

 

Spot told him all about playing the guitar and even showed off a little bit. He asked about his photography and stuff too.

 

“My...ex best friend got me the camera for my birthday and I've been taking pictures ever since. Mainly nature. I like nature more than people.” He had said to him. He talked on and on about his favorite movies and directors. He wanted to be a cinematographer when he got older.

 

Spot got truly happy when he talked about his interests. He never really smiled, but his eyes would light up and his voice would change. It was the highlight of Racetrack's day. At the end of the day Racetrack was on the bus, staring out the window and ready for the bus to take him home for the weekend when he got a text from Spot.

 

**Spot: What’s up, Mini Me?**

 

Racetrack smiled at his phone.

 

**Race: hey, Trevor Reznik.**

**Spot: ...I have never been more proud of you.**

**Race: Why?**

**Spot: Your movie knowledge has grown, and this excites me.**

**Race: Don't blow a gasgit.**

**Spot: Too late. It's gone everywhere.**

**Race: That's gross.**

**Spot: You love it.**

**Race: stfu. I hate you.**

**Spot: I think we both know that's not true at this point.**

**Race: You got my address, right? You can still come over?**

**Spot: Yes, quit nagging me bitch.**

**Race: excuse me for wanting to make sure.**

**Spot: I know I'm hot but you need to calm down.**

**Race: Shut up.**

 

Race got off the bus at this point and walked into his house where his mother was vacuuming. He smelled lasagna which, stereotypically, was his favorite. He hated being a cliche, but who doesn't love it?

 

“Mama?” He called. The vacuum shut off and poked her head out from the living room.

 

“Hi honey. Just cleaning up before your little friend comes over. And I'm making dinner and I got some snacks for you guys.”

 

Racetrack walked over and kissed her on the cheek. “Thanks mom. Where are the others?”

 

“Rosana is over a friend’s house, Giselle is in her room, and Marco is on a camping trip for the weekend. It'll just be you three tonight! After dinner, I've got to go back to the hospital. Watch your sister please. I can't wait to meet your friend, what's his name again?” Racetrack froze in front of the steps.

 

He didn't actually know. He's known Spot for all of three days and didn't even bother to ask about his real name. Or why he had his nickname in the first place.

 

“Uh...I think we should just let him introduce himself.” He smiles and runs upstairs before she can say anything else. He flops down on his bed and takes his phone out to text Spot. 

 

**Race: Yo, when are you getting here?**

**Spot: You know, it's not safe to text and drive.**

**Race: I'm not driving.**

**Spot: I am.**

**Race: Why would you answer?**

**Spot: I was**

 

His text is sent unfinished. Race texts him again, asking what happened. He began to panic when Spot didn't answer back. He sent more and more texts asking what happened and if he was okay, until he finally got a text.

 

**Spot: See how worried you were?**

**Race: I hate you.**

**Spot: Well now we know that's definitely not true.**

**Race: You're an ass.**

**Spot: Thanks.**

 

Race tossed his phone away and flopped back, waiting for the sound of the doorbell. He hadn't been this excited for a sleepover in a while. He smiled to himself as he thought about watching movies and eating snacks with Spot. Spot Conlon. He was going to be in his house! He'd known him for three days and here he was coming over. Racetrack was love sick and he knew it.

He scratched at his arm for the first time in a while. He thought about the words that had been said what felt like months ago. He was going to tell him. He was going to do it tonight and not talk himself out of it. If he was being truthful, he was scared of scaring Spot off.

He liked him a lot.

Maybe even loved him?


	4. Chapter Four

Race had fallen asleep. He only woke up to the sound of his sister banging on his door while chanting something.

 

“Tony, Tony your friend is here!” she recited over and over. He hopped up quickly as a jolt of excitement sprang through his stomach. _Jeez, chill_ he thought to himself as he took a deep breath and smoothed down his hair. He opened the door where Giselle was jumping up and down.

 

She loved when his friends came over. His mom thought it was the excitement of having older kids around, but he knew she just thought they were cute. She'd had a crush on Blink since she knew what a crush was. He ruffled her hair on his way out with a smile.

 

He went down the stairs and almost exploded with laughter at the sight. Spot ‘hardass’ Conlon was being hugged by his mother. He was hunched over in a very uncomfortable looking stance to accommodate her shortness and he was patting her back awkwardly. 

 

She always hugged his friends no matter how new, but this was the most entertaining he'd ever seen.

 

She finally pulled away with a smile. “Oh it's so nice to meet you, Patrick. I was just finishing dinner. It should be ready soon so I hope you're hungry. And-” she finally noticed Racetrack and gasped in surprise. “Oh, there you are honey. We've been waiting for you. I'm so excited to meet your friend!”

 

“I can tell.” He made his way down the rest of the stairs to meet them. He glanced at Spot who was dressed in a large sweatshirt and pajama pants decorated with the many faces of Nicolas Cage. Racetrack laughed softly at them.

 

He looked at Spot’s face and smirked at his uncomfortableness, which was apparent. This was the first time he'd seen Spot Conlon flustered and he was enjoying it.

 

“Well, dinner is almost done. You can go off and do your thing while I finish up.” she smiled and gave Spot a pat before walking off.

 

“Your name is Patrick?” Race laughed, breaking the silence that had registered as Spot stared after his mom.

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“Hey, watch your language. I've got a sister.”

 

“Gross.” Racetrack’s smile faltered as Spot answered blankly.

 

“Hey, are you okay? You act like you've never gotten a hug before.”

 

“Maybe I haven't.” He practically whispered as if he didn't want Race to hear it. 

 

“Okay…” Race didn't know how to answer, so he changed the subject. “Follow me, you can come see my room.” Suddenly, the old Spot was back like nothing had happened.

 

“Your room? Wow, what are you going to do next? Show me your ankles?”

 

“Shut up and come on.” Race was relieved Spot wasn't being weird anymore. He guided him to his room and slowly opened the door, suddenly self conscious about how it looked.

 

“Well, here we are.” He gestured around and watched tentatively as Spot looked around. He gave a slight nod as he examined things around the room.

 

“You're into musicals?” He said, gesturing toward an “Into the Woods” poster he had on his wall. “That's gay.”

 

“You're gay.”

 

“Touché.” He continued looking around until he got to Race’s bed and slowly sat down on it.

 

“This is probably the nicest thing in here.” He laid down flat and spread out, closing his eyes with a sigh. Seeing him all stretched out, Race noticed just how skinny he was for the first time. It alarmed him slightly. He thought Spot was beautiful. Gorgeous even. 

 

He thought he had cool interests and he was smart and talented and why did he hurt himself this way? He sat down next to him carefully, noticing how relaxed he looked. Something Race had never really seen on his face.

 

There was serious and slightly less serious coupled with non-stop smirking. Never smiling, never relaxing. He loved seeing him relaxed.

 

“Why are you staring at me?” Spot asked, his eyes still closed seemingly.

 

“I'm not.”

 

“Don't lie to me Higgins, I see everything.”

 

Racetrack rolled his eyes. “Hey, why do you have your camera bag?” He noticed just now that it was hanging on him. “You gonna take pervy pictures of me while I sleep?”

 

“Maybe,” he sat up and came eye to eye with Race, inches from his face. “Or maybe I never leave home without it in fear my mom will somehow get into my locked room and sell it for crack money.” Racetrack stared back at him. 

 

He never knew when Spot was being serious and it annoyed him that he was so hard to read yet it seemed so easy for Spot to read him. Before he could question anything his mom called for them to come down to dinner.

 

***

 

It was about an hour later when Race was finally settled on the couch as Spot put the movie in. Race’s mom was gone and he had eaten all the lasagna he wanted. Spot had barely gotten through one piece he and his mom had noticed, but didn't say anything.

 

Spot finally hopped up from the ground and came back, flopping down on the couch beside him and sinking down so he could stretch his legs up onto the ottoman. This act caused his shirt to ride up and reveal inches of soft skin which Race didn't exactly mind.

 

Race reached for the remote to skip the previews but Spot swatted his hand away with a hard smack.

 

“Ow, what the heck!”

 

“Never. Skip. Previews. Never in my presence.”

 

“Why not you animal?”

 

“Other cinematic treasures and travesties deserve recognition.”

 

“You're a cinematic treasure.” Race didn't know what he meant by that statement, but he said it anyway.

 

“...Shut the fuck up, loser.” Spot said, tossing a pillow at him. Race did notice the slightest curve of the corner of his lips though. Not a smirk curve, a smile curve. And he was proud to say he mustered up even the beginnings of a smile from Spot. 

 

He sat through the previews patiently waiting for this movie Spot thought was too good for him not to see. They had just pressed play when Race noticed a small figure in the corner of the room.

 

“Giselle, I know you're there.” He sighed. She gave a small laugh and jumped out.

 

“How come I didn't scare you?”

 

“You aren't scary.”

 

“Yes I am! I'll get you yet.” she continued her banter with Race, but he noticed her eyes glancing over at Spot multiple times. He also noticed Spot’s blatant ignoring of his sister. The way he stared at the screen was almost as if he was scared of the conversation she would engage in if he acknowledged her.

 

She didn't seem to care about that.

 

“Hey.” she walked over to him and climbed up onto the couch, squished comfortably between him and Spot. “Hey Patrick, what's your middle name? How old are you? What's your favorite game?” she continued with rapid fire questions until she could think of no more.

 

She thought maybe Spot had somehow not heard her as he didn't answer. She took a breath to ask another when he suddenly paused the movie and threw her over his shoulder as he stood.

 

“Oh god, please don't kill my sister.”

 

“I'm just taking out the trash.” Spot answered, Giselle giggling as he went.

 

“No, no! I'm not trash!”

 

“You're not? Are you sure?” Spot feigned dumbfoundedness. 

 

“I'm sure, I'm sure!” He came back over and tossed her on the couch.

 

“Say another word and it's the landfill for you.” she laughed quietly as he started the movie again from the beginning. Race smiled in the darkness. He later saw Giselle carefully touch Spot’s hair. When he did nothing, she continued to mess with it until he turned to bite her and she jumped away with a laugh.

 

She soon fell asleep and left them to watch in peace. The movie continued, cheesy as ever. Spot sang along obnoxiously to all the songs which Race thought was pretty funny. He staged it as a joke, but he thought Spot actually liked singing them.

 

An hour and some change later they were sitting on Race’s bed. Giselle having been put into her own bed and the tv turned off, Spot sat in expectancy.

 

“Well?”

 

“...You were completely right. Jim Hensen was obsessed with Bowie bulge.”

 

“My work here is done!” He lifted his hands in acception. “Thank you, thank you.”

 

Race laughed. 

 

“So, now what? It's late and my mom isn't here-”

 

“I'm sorry. I'm preserving myself for our Lord and savior Jesus Christ superstar.” Spot interrupted. Race slapped him on the arm.

 

“Not what I meant you dummy. I actually kinda need to talk to you.”

 

Spot sat up from his laying position and looked at him seriously.

 

“Race...I know you're gay. It wasn't a secret.”

 

“I'm being serious, Spot.”

 

“So am I.”

 

“Could you just...stop joking around for one minute?” Race was starting to get a little annoyed just like his memory of the first time he tried to have a real conversation with Spot.

 

“Or we could just not talk and not ruin the moment.”

 

“Spot-”

 

“No Race, please don't -

 

“Spot, you're my soulmate!” He shouted. 

 

Spot stared at him, expressionless. For the first time, he wasn't smirking or angry or teasing, he was just there. Sitting and staring, but no surprise was evident either.

 

He looked at the wood floor and in a voice as quiet as a mouse, he answered “I know.”


	5. Chapter Five

“You know? What do you mean you know?”

 

“I mean I know!” He noticed how Spot was retreating into himself. His knees were drawn to his chest and his face was hidden behind his hair. “Wait, what's your name jerk face? That was it.” Race remembered how he had said that.

 

He remembered how Spot had frozen momentarily, most likely acknowledging the words that had been said to him.

 

“Why did you keep it from me?”

 

“For shits and giggles, obviously.” he bit back.

 

“Spot,” Race started, reaching out a hand but retracting it when he saw Spot flinch away. “Spot I...I really like you.”

 

“Dear God Race, just stop.” he stood up at this point and walked to the other side of the room, facing away from Race. “You don't want this.”

 

“How would you know? How would you know if you don't even try? I've been slowly falling for you since day one and I know you've felt it too. Behind all your snarky comments and groaning and-”

 

“I need to go.” Spot interrupted him. He grabbed for his camera bag, but Race held onto it.

 

“Spot, what the fuck is wrong?”

 

“Me!” He shouted in Race’s face. Race raised his eyebrows, a worried expression coming over him. Spot sank to the ground, camera forgotten and buried his face in his hands. “It's me. I'm the one that's fucked up. I'm broken, Race.” Race lost his edge immediately.

 

He dropped down across from Spot.

 

“Spot, you're far from broken, what are you talking about?”

 

“Dude, don't you see it? Haven't I spelled it out?” He snapped, looking Race dead in the eyes now. The grey in his eyes had become like storm clouds as he got more and more upset. Race didn't know what was wrong.

 

“Where to start? My dad was arrested after trying to murder my mom and me. My mom lost her mind and started in on the coke. She hasn't supported me in years, I buy all my own stuff and I have to make enough money to keep the house! Once, when I was 13 she put detergent in my food and I had to get my stomach pumped. Haven't kept anything down since and I don't address it! That's the problem Race, I don't address problems, I harbor them and I take my anger out on others and I won't let myself do that to you because you're the first person I've liked in a while.”

 

It all poured out quick, like snatching off a bandaid. Like he'd been holding it all in and just needed to tell someone. Race could hear the emotion in his voice. The pain and betrayal. He wanted to be there for Spot so bad and he was pushing him away. He had to show him how much he wanted him.

 

He would do that.

 

Race stood and, with all the strength he could muster, pulled Spot up into a tight hug. His heart warmed when Spot didn't pull away.

 

“Let me help you, Spot.” His voice was slightly muffled by Spot’s shoulder. He lifted his head up and gently kissed his shoulder. Then he did it again, and slowly started kissing up his neck. Then he reached his jaw and his cheek and suddenly his eyes met Spot’s.

 

He backed up slightly, taking in his face. It was blank, then it happened. His lips slowly curved into a smile. A smile, bright and full of teeth and emotion. His eyes lit up like bolts of lightning were flashing behind them. 

 

Race couldn't stand it any longer, he embraced Spot and immediately went for his mouth. His arms were around his shoulders as Spot held onto his waist and it was nothing but passion. Soft, yet hungry. It was as if Spot was trying to get the years of love he'd been yearning for out of this one kiss, and Race didn't mind. He wanted to be the one to provide it.

 

It was a few minutes before they had to take a break, lying down on the wood floors and breathing like they'd just run a mile. 

 

“You could have this all the time,” Race breathed. “Just let me rule you!” He quoted David Bowie from the movie. Spot laughed softly from next to him. And there was nothing behind it but content. Race liked it that way.

 

Race extended his hand to the space between them, a smile taking up his whole face when Spot gently took his hand. By the time he looked over at Spot, he was fast asleep. His chest rose and fell slowly, rhythmically. 

 

He observed his face closely like he never could before. He took in the light freckles across his nose that were appearing slowly as the summer approached. The way the tip of his nose curved up slightly in a way he found adorable. The perfection of his eyebrows and the beautiful color of his hair; he remembered how it shined like gold in the sunlight. 

 

He gently stroked his hair like he would that of a cat. It was as soft as it looked. He could do it all day if he were allowed. He took in the peacefulness of this hurting boy. His soulmate. He smiled down at him. He knew Spot was okay, at least for now. 

 

And that's all he wanted.


	6. Chapter Six

Race woke up to his stomach grumbling. He sat up off the wood floor and yawned. He realized someone had placed a blanket over him at some point in the night. He smiled to himself and got up to stretch. He looked over at the sleeping boy he had put in his bed, a struggle that had lasted far too long.

 

He walked over and kissed his cheek gently before heading downstairs for cereal. His mom was already down there, drinking coffee and reading the paper.

 

“Morning dear!” she said with a wide smile, putting her paper down. His mom was always enthusiastic, but there was something knowing in her smile this morning that made him curious.

 

“Hey mom,” he answered as he poured a large cooking bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

 

“I told you to stop doing that mister.”

 

“I just…” he trailed off as he shoved some in his mouth. “So good, I'm sorry.” She laughed.

 

“So, Anthony, I think we should talk.”

 

He looked up at her with questioning eyes.

 

“Uh...what did I do?” He couldn't think of anything ‘talk’ worthy he'd done lately.

 

She smiled at him and he was even more confused.

 

“Your friend, Patrick. Is he...really your friend?”

 

She knew. She knew somehow and Race knew that. He didn't know what to say. He'd actually never dated a boy before and here he was. Spot had pulled him in so easily. Had made him fall in love so easily and he wasn't mad about it.

 

He was willing to say he was dating him. In fact, he'd love to say it! He'd scream it in the halls of the school if he was told to.

 

He took a deep breath. “No, he's not my friend. Mom he's - - he's my soulmate.” He smiled to himself. “He's my soulmate and I like him...a lot.”

 

“I can tell.” She smiled and got up to hug him. “I'm so happy for you honey. I got home last night and I peaked into your room. I saw you stroking his hair and kissing his hand. You seemed really happy and I was so excited but I didn't want to interrupt so. I just- oh!” she hugged him again, even tighter with a large smile. 

 

He squeezed her back. He was happy for her support. He was lucky for it.

 

“But uh...mom? Spot doesn't really have a...a good place to live. His mom isn't all there and I dunno if he would, I mean-”

 

“He can stay here whenever and for however long he needs to. I want you to make sure he knows our home is always open.” She gave another smile and a gentle pinch of his cheek. Race smiled back and continued to eat as she got up.

 

“I'm going to go hop in the shower. If you're going anywhere, make sure to tell me first.”

 

“Alright, love you mom.”

 

“I love you.” And she was gone up the stairs. He took his bowl and carefully plopped down on the couch, turning the tv on and looking through what was on. He finally settled on RENT, something he'd seen millions of times before and still loved like the most basic of theatre nerds.

 

Luckily, “Seasons of Love” was just starting when he turned to it. A few chords into it he heard someone coming down the stairs.

 

“Morning Giselle.” He recited from habit. 

 

“You would think after all this time you would know my name.” Came Spot’s voice. He came into view and Race smiled.

 

“I just learned your name literally yesterday.”

 

“...I don't care for your tone.” He joked as he sat down next to Race. He looked beautiful with his hair extra messy and his eyes as bright as the sun. “Is this Rent? Man, you really are gay.”

 

“Shut up, who doesn't like Rent? You can't tell me you don't like it.” Spot scoffed. Race grabbed his face, squishing his cheeks and making his lips pout. He turned his face towards his own. “Look me in the eyes and say you don't like it.”

 

Spot slapped him upside his head so he'd let go. A small smile came over his face.

 

“You're so cute, you know.”

 

Spot glared and scrunched up his nose which was even more adorable.

 

“I'm not cute, I'm hot as hell.”

 

“You're both if I'm being honest.” Race smirked suggestively. 

 

“Oh man, shall we shag now or shag later?” Spot asked with mock excitement.

 

“Just c’mere!” Race pulled him by his shirt into a gentle kiss. It didn't last as long as the last, but it still felt like everything was perfect in that one moment. “Man, you look like an angel.”

 

“Man you are sappy.” Spot planted one more quick kiss on his cheek before pulling away.

 

“Come closer, I need your warmth to survive!” Race grabbed Spot around his waist and pulled him over until he was practically in his lap. Spot just let it happen, laying across Race’s legs on his back and putting his arms up under his head to support it.

 

“You're too tall.”

 

“You're vertically challenged.” Spot sighed and closed his eyes. “I'm average height for someone my age.” 

 

“And of the giant species?”

 

“You know, I think you're just making yourself seem shorter rather than me taller.”

 

“Oh shut up.” They stayed like that, Race absent mindedly rubbing on Spot’s stomach as he watched. At some point, he had decided to move his hand under Spot’s shirt and run his fingers over his bare stomach. The skin was soft and he felt the goosebumps form on Spot's skin as his hand moved around.

 

He moved higher and felt his ribs under his fingertips. He saw the thinness of his bare stomach, exposed as he had lifted his shirt, and decided he'd start helping now.

 

“You hungry?” He asked. Spot opened his eyes.

 

“I mean...not particularly.” 

 

“Oh come on, come have some food with me.”

 

“I think you've had enough, that bowl is bigger than you.” He gestured to the empty bowl of cereal that now sat on the floor.

 

“You don't know when I finished that. Could have been hours ago!”

 

“Yeah, but the thing is it wasn't because you were literally eating it when I came down here   
so-”

 

Race decided to just yank him off the couch at this point. He pulled him by the arm, heading toward the kitchen. Spot snatched his arm away once he was standing.

 

“You know, just because I said I like you doesn't mean I want you yanking me around all the time Tarzan.” Race smirked and gently slipped his hand into Spot's, guiding him the rest of the way. He took a seat at the island while Race dug up some leftovers and popped them in the microwave.

 

When he finally got it out and put it in front of Spot, he just stared at it.

 

“Take a bite Spot. Just one bite, you know it smells good.” Race sat down in the chair next to him. Spot lifted the fork and Race noticed how his hand shook slightly.

 

“I-dude, I really can't.” He buried his face in his hands. “I just...everytime I eat something it feels like I just ate a bunch of spiders and I don't want that inside me. I don't want it. I can't have it in me.”

 

Race took Spot’s hand and gently rubbed circles into it.

 

“Spot, you are in control.” Spot looked up at him, his eyes round and innocent like a child in that moment. “You can't let what your mom did to you keep you from being happy. Spot, you're a boss! I know you don't want to let someone else control your life. Don't let the spiders in. Partake of the lasagna!” Okay, he got kind of silly toward the end, but it did get a smirk from Spot .

 

It was better than him being sad.

 

He lifted the fork again and took a bite. It was slow and calculated like there was so much more to it than lifting the fork to his mouth. It probably was a lot more for him. Race patted him on the back.

 

“That's it! You got it.”

 

“Oh golly, thanks coach. You really helped me out!” Spot answered sarcastically as he took another bite, but Race saw the honesty in his eyes.

 

That's what counted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was kind of just a filler type chapter. I hope you still liked it though ♡♡


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, it's the last chapter! Longest fic I've ever written right here! Hope you enjoyed♡♡

That week was one of the happiest of Race’s life. It all worked together like clockwork. Race got Spot to start spending more time with his friends. Spot didn't really have any of his own, and though he was hesitant, he got along with them well. Really well.

 

They hung out a lot, almost everyday that week. There was a football game and they had all gone and cheered on the visitor's side due to Spot’s guidance. They'd gone to see a movie and Spot had criticized it the whole time. He went so far as to yell “GAY!” as two of the leads appeared on screen.

 

The rest of the theatre had laughed, but the manager had almost thrown them out. They'd even gone to the park and just hung around, talking about random stuff. Spot and Blink had gotten into a heated debate about which lead singer was better.

 

“Look Spot,” Blink had sighed. “Freddy Mercury has got the name, the talent, the look, and he is gay as fuck. I think that makes him better automatically.”

 

“Blink, Steven Tyler has an even cooler look. He's hot, his voice rocks, his hair is better than David’s grades, and he looks gayer than even you. I'm pretty sure I win.”

 

They had gone on like that for a while, getting more and more animated as it went. Race had watched Spot as he spoke on the topic, more expressive than he'd ever seen him. It was glorious.

 

It was Thursday when Race had gone to school and Spot hadn't showed up. They had started meeting before school, just hanging out all together until the first bell rang. He hadn't shown and Race was a little confused. He figured he must have just gone off and got caught up with a photo opportunity or something.

 

He didn't really think much of it until he wasn't at lunch or in the class he had with him after lunch. It wasn't until 7th period that the principal came over the intercom.

 

“I've just been informed that one of our own is in the hospital after a brutal attack by...uh, someone who has not yet been identified.” Race’s heart dropped to his stomach. He knew he was lying about not knowing who it was. He knew who had attacked him without even thinking about it and he knew who had been attacked. 

 

He felt his heart start to speed up as he thought about how bad it could be.

 

“According to the doctors he is doing better, but his injuries were pretty severe. I'm sure our friend Patrick Conlon would love a visit at Melody Hospital. Keep him in your thoughts.” The message was over and Race was dumbfounded. 

 

“What a load of bullshit!” He exclaimed incredulously. The teacher looked up at him in horror as if he had just shot a puppy.

 

“Mr. Higgins, I would appreciate it if you watched your language.”

 

“I would appreciate it if this school told it like it is. ‘Our friend Patrick’ my ass. He probably doesn't even know who Patrick is and he doesn't want to reveal who beat him up because we don't want that kind of publicity here. His home life sucks and no one even noticed. Well, now he does have friends and I'm not going to sit here when he needs them.” He said in an eerily calm voice. It was dark and full of spite. He had packed up during his speech and hopped up from his seat to leave. 

 

His teacher continued to call after him but he stormed out of the school. He didn't want to wait, he was gonna be with him now. He sent a text to the group chat that he had made with all his friends in it.

 

 **[To: Everyone]**  
Guys, meet me out front of the school right now!

 

He immediately put his phone away, not waiting for an answer, and went to stand against the wall waiting. The first one to rush out was David, all in a tizzy and anxiously looking around him.

 

Race grabbed him by the shoulders causing him to jump 5 feet off the ground.

 

“Davey! Davey calm down!”

 

“No no no, I-I can't. I think I might have a panic attack. Let's just get out of the open before we get caught and it goes on my permanent record and I don't get into college and-”

 

“David!” David focused on him now, his breathing sporadic and shallow. “Breathe with me, okay? In, hold, out, hold. There you go.” David started to calm down slowly.

 

“I'm sorry, I…” he trailed off. “I've never exactly done this before.”

 

“Yeah, I know sweet cheeks.” Race smirked and David laughed breathily. Mush and Blink came out next and Jack followed soon as well.

 

“We going to see him?” Jack asked. Race simply nodded.

 

“Let's hurry.” They ran to Race’s car and got in, quickly starting it and heading on their way.

 

“I couldn't wait.” Race started after moments of silence.

 

“Glad you didn't.” Blink answered.

 

“We might die, but it'll be worth it.” David squeaked. Jack clenched his hand with a small laugh. 

 

“Dave, you have got to calm down. We aren't going to die because we are skipping.”

 

“Yes we could. My mom will definitely kill me. Or my teacher. My teachers used to like me now they'll probably hate me! But, no. It's not about me. It's about Spot cause we-we love him. Yeah, we do.” He attempted to console himself. This meant a lot to Race since school was almost as important to David as his own family.

 

They pulled up to the hospital minutes later and were soon standing in the waiting room. It felt like hours before they were walking into the room that held him. Race was the first one in, going slow. He saw him, sleeping in the bed.

 

His leg was in a cast and in a sling hanging from the ceiling. The sun shined through blinds and set his blond hair ablaze with a golden shine. His right arm was also in a cast and hung in a similar sling. Race was horrified and mesmerized at the same time. 

 

“Wow, only Spot could look this good while injured.” Jack mumbled as if reading Race’s mind. The others looked at him with furrowed brows. “What?” He shrugged. “It's true.” They all chuckled slightly and took seats around the room. 

 

Race waited for Spot to wake up. He'd wait forever if he needed.

 

***

 

It wasn't too much later that Race finally saw Spot stir slightly. His head moved upright slowly and his eyes started to flutter open. He yawned and ran his hand over his face. His eyes were narrowed tiredly as he looked at them.

 

“Oh man, you brought the goof troop?” He asked. They laughed slightly.

 

“Hey buddy, you better be grateful. David almost had a heart attack because he's skipping class.”

 

“Oh you really shouldn't have.”

 

“Well we missed you a lot! We needed to make sure you were okay immediately.”

 

“I've been gone out of your lives for four hours. What are you guys, the sister wives?”

 

“Can't you just appreciate us being here?” Mush pouted. “Don't you see we love you?” Mush dramatically came up and wrapped his arms around Spot in a tight hug.

 

“Dude, I-I can't breathe.”

 

“Oh, sorry.” He said, pulling away.

 

“Say that to the rib you just broke.”

 

“Mush, how could you? He's already in the hospital and now you broke my boyfriend even more!” Race tsked at him. Mush simply began to smile and laugh like a maniac and everyone was slightly freaked out.

 

“Uh...Mikey honey? What's up with your laugh, it's pretty creepy.” Blink inquired. 

 

“Oh nothing. I'm sorry I hurt your BOYFRIEND, Tony.” He emphasized. 

 

“What? I...I didn't call him that.”

 

“What am I not good enough to be your boyfriend?” Spot spoke up. 

 

“No I just-I hate you all.”

 

“All except Spot because you love him because he's your boyfriend.” Mush taunted. 

 

“Get out.” 

 

“Okay,” David spoke up. “We'll just leave so you can have some alone time with your boyfriend!” They all scurry out of the room laughing before Race can answer.

 

“I hate them.” Race shook his head. He loved them. Spot laughed.

 

“You did say that though. Am I your boyfriend now Racey boo boo?”

 

“Call me that again and see what happens.” He walked up to his bed and leaned in until his nose was a breath away from Spot’s.

 

“You going to love me to death or something?”

 

“I don't think you want to find out.” He gave him a gentle kiss. Spot used his good arm to run his hands through Race’s hair. 

 

“You really want to be my boyfriend, Race?” He asked seriously. His voice cracked as he said it. Race knew he was holding it in. The emotion he felt.

 

Race stroked Spot’s hair, something he had started doing quite a lot. He loved feeling Spot. Feeling his soft skin and hair and seeing his beautiful eyes and hearing his lovely voice.

 

“Yeah. Yeah I really want to be.” Spot nodded with a small smile. Spot pulled him into the bed with him since there was plenty of room with how small Spot was. He wrapped his arm around Race and they laid there for what felt like hours.

 

Race turned to look at Spot who was staring at the ceiling. Race ran his eyes over Spot's profile.

 

“Spot, how do you feel?”

 

“Have you seen me doofus? I feel broken.”

 

Race sat up and looked Spot in his eyes.

 

“Spot,” he took his hand and started to rub circles into it. “How do you feel?” Spot looked at him, eyes narrowed. All at once his face changed. His eyes were clenched shut and his breathing quickened. Race laid down and wrapped his arms around Spot’s waist, his face pressed against Spot’s. He felt the hot tears streak down his face as he held him close.

 

“She hit me with a fucking car Race.” He voice was shaky. “My mom hit me with a car.” His sobs suddenly grew in intensity. He wasn't loud, but he was very shaky. Every now and then he would breathe in sharply.

 

“It's okay Spot. You're safe now. You're safe.” Race tightened his grip as Spot’s grip tightened on him. “You don't ever gotta go back there. I swear.”

 

A little while later when Spot had calmed and Race thought he was asleep, he heard a whisper.

 

“I love you, Race.” Race smiled the biggest he has in a while despite the situation. 

 

“I love you too Spot. I love you too.”

 

“Only losers say it twice.” 

 

They laughed together quietly. Race knew it would be okay from then on.

 

***

 

“Be careful Tony! I don't want him getting hurt even more.” Race’s mom squealed in worry from the doorway. 

 

“Mom, it's okay. I've got this.” He reassured her as he pushed Spot’s chair up the ramp they had installed. He had been against being wheeled around, but he couldn't do it himself with his arm still messed up. He was okay with it as long as it was Race, but he wasn't going to say that out loud. 

 

Race got Spot to the top of the ramp and carefully wheeled him inside the house. His mom pinched Spot by the cheeks and cooed over him.

 

“Oh, I'm so happy to have you here with us. It'll be great! I just know it will. I wish I could hug you. Okay, uh, Tony, take his stuff and put it in the spare room and help him upstairs to get settled in!”

 

“Alright, I got it!” Race brought in Spot's bags and ran them upstairs before coming back and boosting him out of his chair. He wrapped his arm tight around Spot’s waist (which had grown, he liked to point out) as Spot wrapped his arm around Race’s shoulder. 

 

He practically carried him upstairs and led him to the spare bedroom where he deposited him onto the bed.

 

“Here we are, home sweet home!” Spot looked around in a calculating manner.

 

“Could use some improvements.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yeah, like this wall! I think it should go. I don't really know why. I don't know where it leads, but I feel it should be gone.”

 

“It leads to my room, actually.”

 

“What? Really? Who knew! “ Spot exclaimed in mock surprise.

 

“I knew you only wanted me for my body you perv.”

 

“Hey! I did not do it for your body. I wanted the money too.”

 

“Oh shut up and come here.” Race wrapped his hand around Spot’s upper body and forced him to lay down on the bed next to him. They laid staring at the ceiling. Race next to his soulmate who he loved and who loved him back.

 

This boy who has come so far already and is only getting better. Someone who Race wouldn't have thought of talking to before except to make fun. He looked over at Spot with a smile.

 

“I'm so proud of you, you know?”

 

Spot faced him and smiled.

 

“Oh wow, I think I feel something growing inside me, it's warm and...wait, that's just vomit.” Race smacked him playfully. 

 

“I'm serious man. You've come so far.”

 

Spot's lips straightened into a line.

 

“Doesn't always feel that way. I've got this constant reminder of how messed up my life has been now. It's not really helping.”

 

“Don't think about that! Think about what your life could be. What we could be. You could be more than the jacked up kid from a bad family.”

 

“Wow. You have a way with compliments.” Spot answered dryly.

 

“I'm just saying. We could be more. We will be more.” Spot took his hand with a small smile. 

 

“Yeah, we will be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what? I suck at endings! But there it is. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I did writing♡♡

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I just want to say that I don't think making fun of eating disorders is okay. I want to give a warning if talking about it triggers you or anything and if you have one, I am not making fun of you. Love you guys♡♡


End file.
